Gluttony
by mellish
Summary: Vincent attempts to discourage Yuffie from eating sweets, and fails. Oneshot.


**Gluttony**

When he hands her a tranquilizer, it's not because she's being sick and they're onboard an airship. It's not even because she has been punched by a rabid monster who has now inflicted her with berserk, so that she can't tell who exactly she's beating up. Rather, she's just hyper _naturally_, and the impact of her dashing around like a comet that doesn't travel straight has made him so dizzy he can hardly think. He pinches her shoulder to settle her momentarily, and when her knees skid to a stop a few moments after (the friction makes her shoes slide on the polished floor a fair distance even once her upper half has stilled), he hands her the tranquilizer and says, "Take it. Now. Please."

To which she replies,

"Don't be stupid, Vinnie, tranquilizers taste like crap. What I _want_ to eat is something sweet!"

She half-somersaults away from him, landing shakily on her feet. Her arms stick out and windmill on either side of her, and she eventually regains her balance. She snatches her knapsack up from its place against the wall, and the materias inside spill out so that they roll onto the wooden flooring, clacking against each other. His face twitches when he notes thatfour of them are his own, and a third of the rest are definitely not hers. "I know I've got one in here somewhere," She mutters, rummaging desperately.

"Yuffie, what's this?" He gestures to the Odin materia cradled in his claw, which was in his own bag just an hour ago.

"Checking to see if it's in tip-top shape, is all," She lies smoothly.

He detects the twitch on her mouth which indicates a smirk, but he decides not to push it. It's simply not worth arguing over. She'd only stamp her foot in the end, and that would mean all his carefully thought-out debates didn't matter to her anyway. _Spoiled brat, _he thinks, even as he crosses the room to crouch beside her.

"What are you looking for, anyway?"

"Candy, from Wutai. It's really good." She claws into the bag deeper, and he's amazed at all the secret pouches inside it, which explainswhy it can hold so many (stolen) items and still not attract suspicion. "Found it!" She rejoices. She holds what looks like a crayon box in one fist, and as he watches, bewildered, she pops the cover open, and stuffs two of the candies into her mouth. They aren't round candies like he expects – they actually resemble straight pretzels, only darker. She grins up at him, the two pieces arranged so that they look like grotesque tusks to go with her dangerous smile.

"Chocolate sticks. It's really rare to find them elsewhere."

She crunches the two peacefully, and reaches out to grab some more, but he snatches the pack from her grasp. She stares up at him, aghast, the _gimme_ dead on her tongue in horror. He shakes his head. "Sweets aren't good for you. They rot your teeth, they cause your body to bloat, and in your case, they make you incapable of standing still for more than a second."

She furrows her eyebrows and swipes for it, but he simply floats over to the side of the room and settles it on the top of the wardrobe, pointedly avoiding her disbelieving gawk. He is satisfied at her subdued hyperactivity, and is about to settle down comfortably on his chair, when she makes a run for it, cartwheels, and uses the momentum to do a high jump, grabbing the box. She remembers to flip in order to soften her fall too late, and lands on her butt instead.

The rumble it causes (and the possible pain) doesn't seem to affect her, though.

She greedily devours the chocolate sticks, and it's his turn to look upset.

She sticks her tongue out at him.

"You forget, Vincent Valentine, that _I_ am a ninja."

She pauses. "And more than that, I'm me. So I get what I want. Always."

His sigh ischaracteristic of surrender. "I can't win. But you should really rethink your diet."

She stands up and walks over to him, leaning against one of the arms of his chair. "What, my diet of sweets and chocobo chips? Hey, I eat plenty of healthy dishes. Wutaian food is all-natural." He says nothing, acknowledging the truth in her statement, but he flinches at the playful tone in her next words. "Or were you referring to my unhealthy fixation for materia and dead men?"

"It's not like you're consuming me." The words grind out of his mouth with more than a slight growl. His teeth are clamped against each other, and he wonders if his fangs aren't growing like they do when he morphs.

She stops leaning against the chair and turns to face him. "That's what you think." She says it in a voice that's both mock offended and honestly sweet, and then she leans in and kisses him. He does his best to push her away at first, but his grip on her forearms loses purpose halfway before he remembers what he placed them there for. Instead, he pulls back, and for a moment his abysmally pale flesh is colored, and he can't look her in the eye. There's that twitch on her mouth again, the smirk that melts into a grin and then a smile, and she throws her arms around him in a hug, so that he stiffens like a…corpse.

"I hate it when you do that. I really hate it," He grumbles, even as his body starts to relax. His arms wrap around her, and he hugs her back. He hopes, dimly, that she isn't raising her eyebrows in an 'I-told-you-so' way, and is extremely relieved that her face is buried into his shoulder so that he can't tell.

"You're really sweet when you lie, you know." She laughs, and presses another kiss against his cheek, which hasn't stopped burning crimson yet.

"And if you keep denying like that, well, I'll probably end up having the most rotten teeth in the world."

* * *

A/N: Written and finished 10/25/05. I don't write fluff often, and it's rare that I write something when two people are in love already. I apologize for the lack of plot. ; I hope you enjoyed reading it anyhow. All comments and reviews are greatly appreciated. 


End file.
